It had been an exhausting day. The fatigue weighed so heavily on me that I couldn’t even remember if I had completed basic tasks like brushing my teeth or feeding the dog.

My life had become a constant blur of changing diapers, following feeding schedules, and enduring sleepless nights ever since my twins were born. And just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more challenges, I walked outside one morning to find my car covered in eggs.

Initially, I brushed it off as a random prank, considering that Halloween was just around the corner. Perhaps some overexcited kids couldn’t contain their mischievous urges. Too tired to feel more than mild annoyance, I grabbed a sponge and bucket, ready to clean up the mess.

But then, my neighbor Brad approached me, an odd sense of pride on his face. “That was me,” he confessed. “Your car was ruining the view of my Halloween decorations.”

Confused and still groggy from lack of sleep, I struggled to comprehend his words. My car, blocking his view? His extravagant display of plastic skeletons, fake cobwebs, and oversized pumpkins?

My exhaustion quickly transformed into fury, but I was too drained to engage in an argument. Suppressing the urge to say something I might regret, I simply nodded. I may not have had the energy for a confrontation in that moment, but deep within me, a determination formed—I would find a way to teach Brad a lesson. He had no idea who he was messing with.

Don’t get me wrong, I adored my sweet little babies Lily and Lucas, but taking care of them while mostly being alone was incredibly challenging. Months had passed without a decent night’s sleep.

Halloween was an exciting time for the entire neighborhood, but I simply didn’t have the energy to decorate or immerse myself in the festive spirit.

And then there was Brad.

Brad took Halloween to another level. Every year, he transformed his house into a massive haunted attraction with gravestones, skeletons, and gigantic jack-o’-lanterns. He reveled in the attention and beamed with pride whenever someone complimented his decorations. The whole neighborhood adored it, but I was too worn out to care about Brad’s haunted house.

One October morning, things took a turn for the worse. I stepped outside, carrying Lily on one hip and cradling Lucas in my other arm, only to discover that my car had been pelted with eggs. The eggshells clung to the gooey mess, descending down the windshield like a bizarre breakfast gone awry.

“Seriously?” I muttered, staring at the vandalized vehicle.

The previous night, I had parked my car in front of Brad’s house out of necessity. With the twins and their stroller to manage, it made sense to park closer to my own door. Initially, I had dismissed the incident as a mere prank, until I noticed splattered egg remnants near Brad’s porch. It was clear that Brad was the perpetrator.

Although he didn’t actually own the street, Brad acted as if he ruled the curb during Halloween.

Furious, I stormed over to his house and knocked on the door, perhaps with a tad more force than necessary. But at that point, I no longer cared.

“What?” Brad opened the door, his usual smug expression crossing his face as he crossed his arms.

His house was already adorned with cobwebs, plastic skeletons, and a witch sitting on a chair. It was all too much.

Without wasting a moment, I confronted him. “Did you see who egged my car?”

Brad didn’t hesitate. “I did it. Your car was blocking the view of my decorations.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You egged my car simply because it was parked in front of your house? You didn’t even ask me to move it—you just went ahead and trashed it?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. “How can people appreciate my display if your car is in the way?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you serious?”

Brad nodded, his self-satisfaction still intact. “I’m the Halloween King. People come from all over to see my decorations. Your constant parking there is inconsiderate and ruins the vibe.”

I juggled the two newborns, struggling to maintain my composure. And all he cared about was disrupting the “vibe”?

“Well, apologies if my life interferes with your spooky setup,” I snapped. “I have newborn twins, Brad.”

“I know,” he responded, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Maybe you should find somewhere else to park.”

“I park there because it’s easier with the babies and the stroller!”

Brad shrugged yet again. “Not my problem. You can park there after Halloween.”

I stood there, speechless, my anger simmering beneath the surface. But my exhaustion had robbed me of the ability to argue any further.

“Fine,” I snapped, retreating into my house, trembling with anger and disbelief.

As I washed the egg from my car later that day, a realization struck me. Brad wasn’t simply an annoying neighbor; he was a bully. And I had reached my limit. If he wanted to play dirty, fine. I could play smarter.

That night, while rocking Lily to sleep, an idea formed. I knew Brad’s weak point was his pride. He desperately wanted his haunted house to be the best. And though I lacked the energy for a direct confrontation, revenge was something I could handle.

The next day, I casually approached Brad as he continued to add more decorations to his yard.

“Hey, Brad,” I greeted, feigning cheerfulness. “I’ve been thinking. It was inconsiderate of me to block your display. Have you ever considered upgrading it?”

He looked intrigued yet skeptical. “Upgrade? How?”

I grinned, knowing I had piqued his interest. “Oh, I’m talking about things like fog machines or ghost projectors. Your setup is fantastic, but imagine how much more it could impress people with those additions.”

His eyes lit up, and I knew I had him.

I suggested various brands that I had researched, intentionally recommending poor-quality machines with terrible reviews. But of course, I kept that information to myself.

“Do you really think so?” Brad asked, already lost in thought about his next move.

“Absolutely. You’d be the talk of the neighborhood,” I assured him.

Satisfied with my suggestion, I walked away, biding my time until Halloween.

When the night finally arrived, Brad’s house resembled a scene from a horror movie. He had truly gone all out, just as I had anticipated. Crowds gathered to marvel at his meticulously crafted setup, and Brad reveled in the attention.

From my porch, I watched the spectacle unfold, feeling like a villain in a movie. Brad’s display initially impressed everyone—until it didn’t.

Right on cue, the fog machine sputtered and began spraying water like a garden hose. The crowd gasped, and children erupted in joyous laughter.

Brad hurried to fix the malfunction, but then his ghost projector went haywire. Instead of projecting a spooky ghost, it displayed a strange, unrecognizable blob, much to the amusement of the children.

To add to the chaos, one of his giant inflatables suddenly deflated and rolled across the yard. Some mischievous teenagers, sensing the disaster, seized the opportunity and threw eggs at Brad’s house for their own amusement.

Brad scampered around frantically, desperately attempting to salvage his haunted house, but it was too late. His Halloween spectacle had become a laughingstock.

The next morning, as I sat feeding Lucas, there was a knock at the door. It was Brad, looking utterly defeated.

“I, um, wanted to apologize,” he mumbled. “I overreacted.”

I crossed my arms, waiting for more.

“Yeah, you definitely did,” I replied curtly.

Brad shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t realize how tough it must be for you with the twins. I’m sorry.”

I let him squirm for a bit before responding. “Thank you for apologizing, Brad. I trust that it won’t happen again.”

He nodded quickly, eager to escape the awkwardness. “It won’t.”

As he turned to retreat, I couldn’t resist adding one final comment. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

Brad had nothing to say in response.